


Ashes To Ashes

by casstayinmyass



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, F/F, Flashback Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Post-Season/Series 06, Reaction, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Some ravens bear cause for celebration- most, as of late, do not. Sansa learns of Margaery's death at the tragedy of the Sept.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just re-watched Winds of Winter, and this ship just gives me a lot of feels, okay??

It had been one week since Sansa had taken on the responsibility of advising Jon on his council. It's not what she ultimately wanted- the North was rightfully hers- but as she knew full well, these things take time and patience. Winter had arrived; the snows her family words perpetually warned of had come, and it was beautiful. Sansa found herself watching the flakes of pure white fall by her window, collecting and turning her home into a wonderland of ice. Sometimes, she would see Ghost skulking around out in the snow; sometimes his fur would blend in so much that all she would see was a pair of red eyes. In the snow, the winter roses would thrive, glittering petals a stark contrast. _They were the colour of Margaery’s blue dress._

She thought about her every day.

Back in the capital when she was still a girl, Margaery had taken Sansa under her wing. She had taught her things that even Petyr couldn’t have… on long walks by the bay, through letters written under the pseudonym of close friends, behind drawn curtains, Sansa had learned a lot from Margaery.

_“What do people call you?” Margaery asked curiously, stretching out and sighing in content. Sansa held the silk sheets tight to her body._

_“What do you mean? My name is Sansa Stark, you know that,” Sansa giggled, though her cheeks reddened._

_“No, I mean…” the soon-to-be queen smiled, tracing her thumb around Sansa’s face, “A different name.”_

_“Oh… I’ve been called little bird,” Sansa mumbled, “Little dove… darling, sweetling, gentle child.”_

_“And… do you like those names?” Margaery asked, pausing her motions. Sansa took a moment. She had never really thought about it… the names reflected the girl everyone saw. Shy, meek, soft features, soft heart. The beauty of the North._

_“No,” she whispered, and Margaery’s smile grew to a knowing smirk._

_“You’re no innocent child, Sansa,” she murmured, running a hand over the redhead’s arm and playfully adding, “You Starks are a force to be reckoned with I’ve heard, and one day, you will be too.”_

_“I’ll never be as strong as you,” Sansa blushed, “You’re going to be Queen.”_

_“And you’re going to be Lady of Highgarden, once you marry my brother,” Margaery reminded, tapping her on the nose, “Men will bow down before us, you and I, two strong, powerful ladies.” She dipped her head down and brought Sansa’s lips up to hers with a finger, slotting them together and kissing. The other girl’s lips tasted like honeyed pear, and as she tasted them, Sansa thought back to all the men who had beaten her, taken advantage of her, humiliated her._

_She liked the sound of their submission._

Sansa smiled to herself. Margaery was Queen now, married to Tommen and ruling the Seven Kingdoms. The North and the Capital may once again return to peace and alliance with Jon King in the North and Margaery seated at the kindest Lannister's side.

Sansa hated having to wait for the snows of winter to subside to visit Margaery again- it had been too long already… two years, evidently… but they were both otherwise occupied in that time. She had stories to tell and stories to keep hidden away, such as her latest union. Ramsay hadn't broken her, for she kept Margaery's words at the back of her mind: a woman must endure what she must endure, waiting patiently for the moment to take what is hers from those who have robbed her, by any means of sweet violence. She had quite taken that to heart.

Despite the devastation Sansa had faced, there was no doubt that seeing Margaery's hazel eyes would absolve her of any pain weighing on her heart, the feel of her tender arms pulling Sansa close to her chest and just _holding_ her through it all, her lips on hers, on each curve of her body-

A knock sounded at her door, and Sansa turned to find Jon standing there, holding a letter.

“A raven came,” he said, eyes sullen. Sansa noticed the absence of a good-natured smile- or whatever a smile looked like on Jon- it must be bad news.

“From?” Sansa asked, folding her hands in front of her gently.

“King’s Landing,” Jon informed, taking a deep breath.

“What does it say?”

“Read it Sansa, dammit.” He was short; she should really read it. Sansa extended a shaky hand, reluctant to do so. When the parchment reached her fingers, she looked down to examine the words on it, reading aloud.

“Lord Bolton,” she read, the name leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Word of the Bolton defeat at Winterfell must not have reached King’s Landing in time for this letter.

“It is a time of sadness for all," she went on, apprehension rising inside her. The last time she had heard of a letter like this, it had borne news regarding the fall of her brother and her mother.

"It is with heavy hand and heavier heart we write to you. The Great Sept of Baelor has been destroyed by a sudden blaze of wildfire at the time of Ser Loras’ and the Queen Regent’s trial." Sansa looked up. "Trial? Cersei was on trial? How did they manage to reign her in?"

"There's been a religious uprising... I'll explain later," Jon told her, exasperated. He seemed exhausted, worn out, as if he had just fought a battle. Sansa kept reading.

"All who were present when tragedy struck included Ser Loras Tyrell himself..." Sansa's stomach began forming knots. Loras was her betrothed years ago, when she was still young. It pained her to imagine the kindly young man in anguish of any sort- he had been nothing but gentle, if not a little despondent, with her, when many were cruel. "Lord Mace Tyrell," she went on. Her betrothed father in law, another Tyrell... The majority of Margaery's house. If they had gone up in flames, then...

_"What about that Petyr Baelish?"_

_Sansa turned her head, inclining it toward Margaery and squinting in the brilliant sun. "What about him?"_

_"He's into you," Margaery grinned, nudging her lightly. There was that blush again._

_"He's old enough to be my father."_

_"That never stopped men before. Why, when I was growing up at Highgarden, I had a cousin-"_

_"Is this the same cousin who caught porridge plague?" Sansa giggled, and Margaery's laugh resounded._

_"The very same. Anyway, you don't even want to know how many old men she had to weed her way through. Marriage is much easier for men than women when they grow old, that much is certain."_

_"Well... you don't have to worry, because I don't like Lord Baelish like that," Sansa mumbled._

_"Good," Margaery teased_ _, "I'm afraid if you did, I would be extremely put off, and I might even murder him in a jealous rage." Sansa smiled._

_"Don't murder him," she said, "He's been very kind to me."_

_"I won't," Margaery said playfully, taking Sansa's arm, "Not until he lays his_ little finger _on my princess." At this, Sansa took an opportunity to lean in, brushing her lips against Margaery's. She couldn't help it; the sun made the Tyrell's chestnut hair glow golden as the rose on her banner, and her pink lips just looked so soft. Margaery cupped Sansa's face in turn, and the two girls giggled with each other as they walked backward into the bushes, concealed for the afternoon in their mischievous endeavors._

The fire was dying. The stone of the walls had never seemed so bleak.

"Lord Kevan Lannister... His Holiness the High Sparrow." She looked up at Jon in question, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"Go on."

"And-" Sansa’s breath caught in her throat, the next name with it. _No, she must have read it wrong._

“Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Margaery Tyrell,” she breathed, her knees falling weak.

_They scribed the wrong name. It only looked like her, but it couldn't have been her. She was too smart for that, she's always two steps ahead of the game. A sister, some other Tyrell, maybe...?_

“Go on,” Jon repeated with a sigh, unaware of Sansa’s reaction. The Stark princess took a moment, before reading on.

“King Tommen has also died, of his own accord upon learning of the tragedy. Upon this horrific misfortune,” Sansa managed out, “Cersei Baratheon has been named Queen of the Andals, First of her name, Lady Protector of the Realm and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Long May She Reign.”

Sansa rubbed her thumb back and forth across the crimson residue the wax had left on one side of the letter.

“Cersei’s queen,” Jon muttered, closing his eyes, “Do you know what that means for us?”

“Jon..." Sansa's eyes had fallen closed, she hadn't notice. "Jon, please leave.”

“It means a battle won for nothing. Joffrey’s mother is _queen_ , a Lannister sits on the throne, and as long as she does, we will know _no_ peace in the North!” he shouted.

"Jon..."

 _"What the hell are we to do if-"_ Sansa cut him off curtly, her eyelids the only barrier between her brother and her tears.  

“ _Please leave!”_

Jon clenched his jaw, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” he muttered, slamming her door. At this, Sansa crumpled to the floor, upholding indifference be damned. She couldn’t tell him why- of course she couldn’t. Margaery was dead, killed at some trial she had never even been made aware of.

_"Once you're Queen... will you have to..." Sansa made a face._

_"You're that repulsed at the idea of letting a man inside you?" Margaery laughed. Sansa was drunk on the sound._

_"It just sounds so... unpleasant," she tried._

_"It's not terrible," Margaery informed her, "It's quite enjoyable, really, if you meet his pace."_

_"It sounds like charging into battle," Sansa muttered._

_"I can't speak of any experience in battle, but I'd imagine it's quite similar. Yes, it is true that a woman's touch is softer," Margaery shrugged, pulling Sansa's hair back and beginning to braid it loosely, "More delicate, more seductive. We take our time, usually, because we know how to appreciate the female form."_

_"I was told marriage was between man and lady," Sansa said, biting her lip._

_"It is," Margaery nodded, "But in the south, we accept love as it is, not as tradition states."_

_"I'm going to like it there," Sansa grinned._

_"Mmm, I'll visit often. I'll have to bring my husband, the royal ass, along, but with what we'll get up to in your chambers, I can tolerate him on the journey."_

_"Margaery," Sansa admonished, looking around, but they were alone in her chambers anyway. Good... the noises they would be making were not for the ears of others._

_"I love you, Sansa Stark," she said fondly, and Sansa curled back into her touch, at peace in the feeling of her robes against her._

_"I love you, Margaery. Never leave me alone in this world- please."_

_"They'll have to take us out, side by side," Margaery murmured against Sansa's forehead, and kissed her there._

Sansa’s mercy died with the flower queen. Any shred of humanity she had left in her after Ramsay burned away with the old Sept. She would watch Cersei and the Lannisters burn for what they took from her- once her family, succeeding that her dignity, now her love.

_"You're going to be a great lady one day, Sansa."_

_"So I've been told," Sansa replied quietly._

_"And I suppose you've been told of the great man you're going to marry."_

_"It's not Loras."_

_"No. But Tyrion is a good man."_

_"I don't love him, Margaery."_

_"And I don't love Joffrey." Sansa looked down at this. She shouldn't be so selfish- she wasn't the one marrying a horror like him._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be. We have enough to be sorry for in this life, let's not make this one of them," Margaery said. They sat together in silence, watching Blackwater Bay._

_"You would be a fair ruler, Sansa."_

_"The imp holds no dominion over Casterly Rock."_

_"You don't need Casterly Rock to rule your people._ Your _people." She took Sansa's hand at her confused glance._ _"At least, for now, you'll remain here, with me." Sansa nodded, wiping a tear away._

_"As long as I can, I'll stay for you... but if we can leave, come with me, no matter the consequences," she whispered._

_"Oh, Sansa. One day, it will all make sense," Margaery sighed, squeezing her hand, "One day you'll know, you'll understand to what extent the game is played."_

_"You'll be a fair queen, Margaery."_

_"Maybe one day."_

 

Winter is coming.


End file.
